11. An Interlude

Phil woke up to a body he knew well: sore, aching, stretched thin and bone-weary. He felt the tattling wheeze deep down in his lungs that signaled trouble if he didn't take precautions. He had a very well established recovery program, which consisted of two days of down time featuring lots of water, zinc, vitamin C, trashy reality television and sleep.

But he also woke up to a body he wasn't quite so familiar with, draped over his lower abdomen, snoring loudly and kicking in his sleep like a puppy. Clint was twisted up in the bedspread, down to his undershirt and boxers. Phil had one arm wrapped around his shoulders, and shifted a little to raise his hand to comb his fingers through Clint's short and chaotic hair. He felt Clint wake up instantly, but he continued to just lay sprawled over Phil, one hand spread wide on Phil's chest.

Phil looked around and realized it was probably late afternoon. "How long?" His voice was hoarse, and yeah, he realized he was in for a painful couple of days of deep breathing exercises.

"Ten hours or so. I got up earlier, checked in with HQ."

Phil clinched a fistful of Clint's hair instinctively, and Clint curled in closer with a throaty purr.

"And?" He asked, letting go and stroking fingers down Clint's neck.

"Blake escaped but we got a few others who were working with him. Salzmann sang like a canary after being trapped in an ambulance with the Black Widow for five hours."

Phil cursed, because Blake's machine had been pretty extensive from what he could tell.

"Yeah, I know, boss. But he's on our radar, SHIELD will track him down eventually."

"Any word on extraction?"

"Yeah, uh." Clint finally shifted uncomfortably.

"What?"

"Hill told me to keep you stationary for 24 hours, or she was sending another ambulance for you."

"That bi—"

"She sounded pretty worried, actually. That was so weird." Clint squirmed again, nuzzling into the middle of Phil's torso, just below his rib cage.

Phil sighed. "Okay, fine, whatever. We're stuck here until tomorrow."

"Awesome." Clint lifted the hem of Phil's tee shirt and looked up at him questioningly. Phil wondered when he had been stripped down to his underwear, but he wasn't going to question his good luck. He nodded. Clint kissed his belly, of all the soft body parts Phil had to choose from, but Phil let him enjoy himself for a few moments. Clint's kisses were gentle and indulgent as he licked and sucked and generally made like Phil was a decadent dessert. Phil finally took a chance and pushed gently on Clint's shoulder, directing him down Phil's body.

Clint paused for a moment, his eyes still closed, then traveled down to smell around Phil's covered erection. "You okay with this?" Phil asked, his voice hoarse. "Clint, you have to tell me if you aren't."

Clint nipped at the strained fabric of Phil's briefs, pulling on it with his teeth.

Phil grabbed his hair and tugged. "Clint."

Clint stretched his neck out, tilting he head up to expose his neck but keeping his eyes closed. "Please."

"Oh, fuck." Phil gasped. "Yes, suck me. Clint, if that's what you want, I want to see it. Do it!" Phil pushed Clint's head down but let go of his hair, grabbing for the bed spread instead.

Clint scrabbled to pull Phil's underwear off, his breathing heavy. He almost looked angry, except for the gentle hands and the adoring eyes, and with his mussed hair he looked completely wrecked. "I want to, I want to."

"You're so damn beautiful, you're so perfect, yes, I want to see that sinful mouth around my cock." Phil eagerly pulled a pillow under his head and shoulders so he could watch.

Clint sighed, his breath hot and wet over the taut skin of Phil's cock. "I like that."

Phil huffed out a laugh. "I am not surprised you enjoy dirty talk."

Clint's pink tongue poked out of his mouth as he ran the tip over the edge of the head, making Phil contort as pleasure and anticipation sparked up his spine. "That too."

Phil pulled himself together. "What?"

Clint shook his head just a little but before Phil could press for answers, he took Phil's dick into his mouth and all reasonable, responsible discussion was out the window. It had been a very long time since anyone had given Phil's dick any serious attention, and Clint was worshipping it. He had one hand wrapped firmly around the base as he worked the head and upper shaft, swallowing and sucking hard before breaking off to lick long, wet stripes up and down. Clint's body had shifted to settle down onto the mattress as if he planned to be there for a while, and as much as Phil was anticipating an amazing orgasm he was also willing to play the whole process out for a while. Clint's mouth was as smart as he was, hot with teasing and promises.

Phil always had to work to shut off the analytical track of his mind, the awareness that stood apart from his experiences as he tried to parse them and file them away. Making love was sometimes a trauma if he wasn't mildly buzzed from alcohol or muscle relaxers — he wasn't a saint, although neither was an indulgence he rarely let himself enjoy because it scared him too, especially with someone who wasn't a long-term, trusted partner. But if he couldn't turn his brain off somehow and just enjoy the moment, he always ended up with lackluster sex because he spent more effort trying to analyze his partner's every move and speculate about their motives than he did in enjoying the physical sensations.

Even thinking all of that, while Clint worked on his cock with lavish attention, Phil managed to push everything aside: where he was, how sore his body felt, all the questions he had for Clint, all the concerns their possible relationship might raise at SHIELD. He left all of that sitting in a box in the furthest back corner of his mind and focused instead on clutching at Clint's amazingly solid shoulders and watching Clint's back flex as he bobbed up and down, and the way his hips rolled in a clear attempt to get some friction on his own cock. Clint had one hand pressed against Phil's hip, holding him down with a strength that was disorienting. He knew Clint would let him up if he asked, but he also knew that Clint was strong enough that it would be choice on his part; he was physically strong enough (and Phil, embarrassingly, weak enough) to keep Phil where he wanted him. But even with that, Phil knew he was in charge and that knowledge was erotic to the point of being painful, straining his every nerve with the power he had, and the vulnerability Clint was revealing to him.

He figured 43 was as good a time to discover a new kink as any.

Clint sucked Phil's cock fully into his mouth and Phil panted and gasped out a litany of curse words and encouragements, praising Clint and petting him. Clint whined with Phil's cock buried deep in his mouth and throat. Pure desire and affection braided into Phil's lust and he was content to have Clint pleasuring him, which was an awareness Phil registered distantly and with surprise. His breathing was too short and he felt a tell-tale lack of oxygen starting but in the next instant he barely snapped his hips in warning before he came, his orgasm crashing through him like a powerful wave, obliterating him completely. He pushed himself down into the mattress as the climax rolled through him, his heels digging in. Clint kept sucking on him, hunched over Phil's writhing body, his eyes closed and his face transformed with pleasure.

Phil felt himself melt, every muscle painless and loose. He blinked and smiled down at Clint, who was panting hard, his tongue hanging out of his mouth which was bruised and red. Phil reached to run his thumb over his lips. "You're so beautiful," he murmured.

Clint blushed explosively but did not look away. "You talk too nice."

"No such thing."

"Unf. Sure." Clint shifted in a pretty obvious bid to hump the sheets.

Phil chuckled. "Come here. On your knees, straddle me." Phil pulled and pushed until Clint was where he wanted him, right over his own dick (which was not going to get into the action anytime soon, but Phil liked the view). Clint put his hands on his thighs and looked down at Phil with a raised eyebrow and a wary look in his eyes.

"Gonna tell me how stupid my dick looks?" He smiled as he bounced, making his cock flap up and down, but his eyes were narrow and Phil could tell that something dark hid behind the joke.

"No. Beautiful," Phil said, getting an inkling of why Clint liked how "nicely" Phil talked. "It's solid and perfect."

Clint smirked but the defensiveness was there in his posture and his eyes. "Short."

Phil blinked. Short? He stared at Clint's cock, which was pretty much at eye level for him. "No, it's not. Thick, yes; short, no. Not very long, but not too much different from mine." He grinned. "Or weren't you looking?"

Clint shrugged. Phil moved one of Clint's hands and wrapped it around Clint's own cock.

"Sir?" Clint laughed, a tittering, nervous sound.

"You're so beautiful, I want to watch. I want to see how you pleasure yourself."

"You really just want to watch me jerk off?" Clint asked, his hand moving of its own volition up and down the shaft of his dick, soft and slow.

"Yes, but I don't want a damn lap dance. I want to see you, all of you, cracking open for me. All mine, Clint. I want you. Here. Right here, for me."

"Oh." Clint gasped and swallowed the sound, his hand moving faster.

Phil put aside the question of who the asshole bastard was who had treated Clint so poorly, the man who had very obviously burned Clint hard and left him feeling used and worthless to other men. He didn't need details to know what he saw, and he hated that nameless jerk with a furious anger he had not felt in years. He just hoped Clint wouldn't run away after this and that they could explore Clint's needs and desires better when they had more time -- and Phil was more rested -- than they had at the moment.

He kept one hand firmly on Clint's thigh to hold him in place, to let him know that Phil was in charge and keeping him safe, then moved his free hand between Clint's legs. He moved slowly and maybe Clint picked up on his concerns, but maybe not, and just watched with a blank expression as he kept stroking himself. Phil gently took hold of Clint's balls and lifted them, holding them with care as he played, rolling them in his palm. Clint's whole body shuddered and he blinked in surprise before finally giving over and letting his head drop forward and his hand speed up.

"That's it, Beautiful, do it just the way you like it, that's perfect. You're perfect. I'm so lucky, damn, Clint, I'm so fucking lucky to have you here on top of me. Can you say my name when you come? I want that. Can you do that?" Phil's voice, already hoarse and wheezy when they started, dropped even lower.

"Yes, yes, oh god, Phil! Yes!" Clint's body clinched up as he started jerking off in earnest, his strokes short and brutally hard. Phil tightened the hand on Clint's thigh to ground him and keep him from unbalancing himself. With a jerk, Clint tossed his head back as he cried out "Phil!" and came, his cum spurting all over Phil's undershirt. Phil really didn't care, too amazed by the feeling of Clint's balls tightening up and Clint shaking apart over him. He moved just enough to strip off the dirty shirt and use it to carefully wipe down Clint's dick before tossing it aside.

Clint, dazed and shaking, followed the tug of Phil's hands and toppled forward, landing to one side and immediately wrapping himself around Phil, who held him close and whispered loving nonsense against his temple.

When their breathing slowed down and Clint had returned to randomly nuzzling Phil's chest, Phil tapped his head.

"Hey?" Clint looked up at him, bleary eyed and completely, adorably debauched.

"I'm sorry, but I doubt I'll be good for much else. I'm honestly not good for too much right now. Hill's…she's not wrong. I need to rest and recover." Phil sighed.

The way Clint switched to being Hawkeye and back again was like watching a shadow fall away, nothing more than a twitch of muscles to change him completely. He was both, of course, but Phil was fascinated by the dynamic. He reached up and gently traced his fingers over Clint's face. "Did I upset you?"

"I pushed you too hard, during the mission. I should have taken better care of you." Clint breathed in deeply. "Sir."

"I can take care of myself, Clint. I've been doing it for years. You have to trust me to know my limits."

"I'm not so good at knowing where limits are." Clint closed his eyes, tipping his head to the side as Phil's fingers played over his ear and neck.

"I suppose that's my job then." He reached over and clasped one hand around the back of Clint's neck, holding him still. Clint's free hand clutched Phil's side, spasming, as he sucked in a deep breath, his eyes closed. Phil tangled their legs together. "But I'm worried about you."

"I'm good, really good, thank you Sir. I'm great." Clint sighed, lowering his head to Phil's chest again.

"I don't want to hurt you, Clint," Phil said softly before placing a delicate kiss on his head. "I get the feeling people have hurt you in the past."

"You won't." Clint kept his eyes closed.

"I won't mean to." Phil offered it as a prayer, drifting off to sleep, and hoping for the best.